Pictures of You, Pictures of Me
by Silver-Angelic-Lilly
Summary: Mark needs a new place to live. Anna needs a flatmate. What they didn't know they needed was each other. Mark Fischback/OC Markiplier/OC
1. Chapter 1

Well, you could say the start of our story began when I put the advertisement out for a flatmate. I couldn't really afford the rent on my own, but I had managed to pay off the rent for the first 3 months until I found someone to share. Mrs. Ryan, the owner of the building, kept the place well updated with modern fixtures and such, and was always willing to allow persons to share flats, as long as we paid rent and didn't do any illegal activities.

Sorry, getting off topic. It was about 2 weeks after I first put the advertisement up before I started getting calls and people visiting. Most were assholes, whom I was not at all willing to share with. But eventually I got a knock on my door, about a month after I put the ad up. It was 9 am, and having just come home from an overnight shift, I was kinda surprised. I threw on a light jacket and opened the door, in nothing but my pajamas.

"Hello?" A young man, roughly 6 feet tall, wearing a black shirt, black pea coat, blue jeans, glasses, spiked black hair, and a slight smile.

"Hi, I saw your advertisement for the flat share? Is it still available?" I smiled at him.

"Yea, it is. Come on in. Sorry about the mess." The kitchen had a few unwashed dishes, the couch was messy with pillows and blankets.

"It's fine. It's quite a homey place."

"Thanks. Can I take your coat?" He nodded, and I hung up his coat by the hooks by the front door. "Come along, the rooms are this way." I showed him what would be his bedroom, complete with queen sized bed, dresser, and walk in closet. The ensuite bathroom had a large shower, a tub beside it, toilet and sink.

"Wow, it's really nice in here." I nodded.

"It is. The spare room is right over here." I walked out the door and took a turn to the left, and there was the empty room. "It could double as an office if you want. There's another room identical to this one, but I already set it up as a kinda at home dance studio." He raised an eyebrow.

"Dance studio?" I just shrugged my shoulders.

"I'm currently with the Cincinnati Ballet Academy. I need a place to practise outside of normal hours, the spare room worked perfectly."

"Ballet? Nice. You must be very light on your feet."

"I am. I never caught your name." He smiled and held out a hand.

"Didn't give it. Mark Fischbach." I took his hand and shook it.

"Anna Evans. It's nice to meet you." I turned back to the kitchen. "Can I offer you something to drink? Coffee, water, juice?" I offered him a place to sit by the island.

"Coffee, thanks. Black, two sugars please." I went and started preparing the coffee when Mark asked "So how much would rent be?"

"$300 a month. It's not bad, but that's split between the two of us. $600 a month for a starting ballerina is pretty rough, so I decided to put up the advertisement."

"How did you afford it so far?" I carefully carried the coffees over and handed him his. He murmured a thanks and took a sip.

"Down payment. Rent is actually covered for the next two months. Birthday gift from the parents. I work a part time job at a friend's place to cover groceries and stuff."

"Wow." I smiled and took a large gulp of my coffee. God Bless Caffeine.

"Want to move in? I have the paperwork and stuff ready to fill in if you want to finish it up now." Mark was the first person who was kind and not an asshole at all.

"I would love to." I smiled and made my way to the desk in my bedroom, and pulled out the papers. 15 minutes and a few signatures later, I handed Mark the spare key.

"Do you need help moving in?" He shook his head.

"Not really, my friends Bob and Wade are helping me move in. Speaking of which, when would be a good time to?" I shrugged again.

"Anytime between 10am and 8pm this week would be fine. I have work from 9pm to 5am."

"Ohhhh, graveyard shift."

"Yea, not fun. So I'll see you around?"

"Yea, I should be by tomorrow. It was nice meeting you Anna."

"Likewise Mark."

* * *

A knock came later on that day, after I had slept and showered, in a simple pair of sweatpants and a shirt, given the cold weather of January. I peeked out the peephole and saw Mark out by the door with a box in his arms. I opened the door with a smile.

"Hey there stranger. Didn't expect you back so soon." Mark shrugged with a slight blush on his face. "Come on in."

"My friends couldn't come down, so I decided to try and move in tonight, if that's alright?" I smiled and giggled at his shyness.

"Mark, this is your home too now. I have no problem with you moving in." I paused. "Would you like some help moving your stuff in?" Mark shook his head.

"I have it all in my car. I have no problem bringing it in." I walked forward and took the box from his hands.

"Well then, I insist on helping you set up." With that, I walked off with the box to put in his room. I didn't try and open the box, but just placed it down on the bed. I walked back into the kitchen, and waited for Mark to come back. A thought popped into my head, and I quickly picked some chicken and rice out of the freezer to defrost. I heard footsteps, and swung the door open, laughing at the sight of Mark with three boxes piled up in his arms. I laughed, taking one down off the pile. "Aren't we trying a bit too hard?"

"I'm handsome and awesome. Three boxes is nothing!" I laughed. Mark smiled gently. "You have a lovely laugh." A blush came to my cheeks.

"Come on, you flirt. Let's get you moved in."

We got all of Mark's boxes in, and I decided to make Mark a welcoming dinner. My famous Butter Chicken with rice.

Mark tried to tell me that I didn't have to, but I just shooed him out of the kitchen and kept on cooking.

It was my way of showing him that I was glad he was here.


	2. Chapter 2

So a few months passed without much incident. Mark and I got along pretty well.

We could banter, could flirt like friends, we argued about whose turn it was to do dishes, I did my job at night, he recorded videos for his YouTube channel, which I found out about when I heard him scream and burst into the room, worried about him being hurt or something.

All in all, we were good friends.

"Never have I ever….. cheated on a test." I smiled as Bob took a drink of his beer. Mark and Wade laughed. We were sitting down around the living room, beers in hand, playing never have I ever.

"What? It was in 2nd grade!"

"Go Wade." Wade's face scrunched up in thought, then he smiled. "Never have I ever gotten a tattoo."

I took a drink of my beer amidst the shocked laughed of the boys. "Henna is considered, by social standards, to be a tattooing method. I had it done for a production of a Midsummer Night's Dream."

"Where?"

"Left hip, stomach, arms and legs. Mark, go."

"Never have I ever….. been to a strip club." Everyone but Mark drank. The boys all stared at me.

"It was for a class, ok?"

OK, so that wasn't the exact truth.

I'm not really all that proud to say this, but my late night job was pole dancing. And I was really, really good at it.

Almost as good as I was at ballet. I just told Mark I worked for a friend, or that I didn't want to talk about it, or if he pushed, I told him that I danced.

"Never have I ever had sex with a woman." A wicked smile crossed my face as the boys were forced to drink.

Sometimes, avoiding the topic was best for all parties involved.

XxXxX

Unfortunately, I couldn't avoid it tonight.

Bob and Wade came to take Mark out for his birthday. And they took him to my work.

It was my night to perform.

Shit.

Bob and Wade had paid for the performer of the night to give Mark 'special treatment'.

Meaning I had to dance around Mark in a non-existent outfit.

SHIT SHIT SHIT.

"Benji, can't Marissa take the special dance tonight?" Benji was a good friend who taught some of the ballet classes, and the owner of the club Magenta AKA my work.

"Sorry, nope, but why are you avoiding this guy? He's kinda cute." I sighed and ran a hand over my face.

"I know he's cute, I live with him!" Benji's head snapped to mine, his platinum blonde hair flipping.

"Say whaaaaaa? Does he know?" I shook my head. "Sorry baby girl, but you got to do it. You're on the solid pole tonight." I sighed. "Go throw on your mask and the silver outfit." I walked off, sad, before picking up the silver outfit, slipping it on, putting on the 4 inch heels, tying my mask to my face, and plastering on a fake as hell smile.

"Gentlemen, for your pleasure tonight, may I present our lovely Sugar Plum Fairy!" I strutted out, smiling my fake ass smile. Dark Horse started playing and I spun on that pole, making it my bitch. Occasional glances let me see that Mark was either slightly disgusted or annoyed at the situation. I sighed internally. Of course he wouldn't like the idea of a girl dancing on a pole in minimal clothing. He went to get up and leave when I quickly grabbed the microphone.

"I hear we have a birthday boy in the house!" His face was shocked. I casually walked down and took his hand, taking him up to the stage. I glanced up to his eyes and saw recognition in his face. Fuck.

"Sorry Mark." I then danced around him, not really touching him unless I had to. I did this for about 5 minutes before smiling at him, kissing him on his cheek, and sending him back to his seat. I forced another huge fake smile onto my face as I walked off stage. He knew.

Fuck.

XxXxX

"You ok baby girl?" I shook my head as I slid back into my hoodie at the end of the night.

"I'll be fine Benji. I just want to get home." He nodded, handing me my bag.

"Call me if you need me." I smiled and nodded, before getting into my car and driving home. Getting home didn't make me feel any better either. It was dark and quiet, and the silence pounded down on me, but the guilt pounded harder. I sighed, slipping off the hoodie, putting my keys down on the counter. I went to look at the light switch, but didn't turn it on.

"Were you ever going to tell me the truth about your job?" I spun around to see Mark sitting on the couch, head resting on his hands.

"Would you have been willing to hear?" Our eyes connected, and Mark's eyes screamed hurt. I stepped forward, tired, sad, and kinda angry. "Would you have been willing to listen when the woman you live with, a ballerina of high esteem, told you she spent most of her nights swinging on a pole?!"

"I would have been willing to listen rather than have you lie!" He stood up and walked forward.

"Did I lie?! Did I ever tell you I did something other than dancing?" We were almost face to face, our height difference accentuated, his 5'11" towering over my 5'3" stature.

"You didn't tell me you danced like a whore!" A crack resounded through the room. My hand stung, and tears filled my eyes. His face was turned slightly with the force behind the slap.

"How. Dare. You." I backed away from him. "Fuck you Mark. For all you preach of having an open mentality, yours is pretty fucking closed." I grabbed my keys again and stormed out of the apartment. It would be the last time I spoke to Mark for 3 weeks.

I threw myself into ballet. I threw myself into work. I couldn't sleep anymore. I worked myself to exhaustion only to wake up screaming with nightmares I could never remember. Mark… He threw himself into his account, and his fans came up with an excuse for his darker personality. It became known as Darkiplier. Personally, it kinda creeped me out, but I never said a word. I wouldn't.

I couldn't.

I had been called a whore so many times when the way I danced ballet was seen, my moves passionate and sensual, but with skill and accuracy. Mark calling me a whore stung to the deepest depths of my soul.

But I refused to apologise for doing something I loved.

"Annie, you have to talk to him sometime." I shook my head at Benji. "You can't lock out everyone who hurts you." I sighed, running my finger over my pale blue mask of the night.

"I know. But let me be stubborn and try."


	3. Chapter 3

**_I noticed part of the chapter had duplicated, so I just fixed it and reposted the chapter. Sorry for the mess up!_**

* * *

**MARK POV**

"Tom, how do I apologize?"

"_I'm sorry usually works._"

"She won't speak to me, she won't look at me, she locks herself in her room, and I never see her eat anything. I spoke out of anger and now I've hurt her." I had been beating myself up ever since the saw the hurt in Anna's eyes. "It was a serious shock."

"_Sorry won't do it then I guess._"

"Nope. But it can't hurt to try." I heard music start to play in Anna's dance room. "Speaking of which, there's no time like the present. I'll call you later."

"_Alright Mark. Good luck. Love ya little bro._"

"Love you too old man." I ended the call and walked over to the room. The door was open slightly, and I peeked in to see Anna, tied into pale pink ballet shoes, twirling on the tips of her toes. She used the kicking of her opposing leg to propel her spinning. I gentle knocked on the door, and she dropped one foot and flattened the other one onto the ground. She turned her head, and I got my first full look of her since we argued.

Her eyes had dark circles around them and her clothes hung off her. She had lost sleep, and my assumption of her not eating was right. Damn it.

"Can we talk?" She nodded slightly. I stepped in carefully, and ran my hand through my hair. "First thing, I wanted to apologize for my words on that night. I had no right to call you…that." She simply stared before sitting down and unwrapping her shoes. "I was upset and angry over the idea that you were so exposed to men, and had to expose yourself like that just to pay for food, and I didn't like the idea of strange men touching you, so I lashed out. I apologize sincerely." She didn't say anything, and just kept undoing the ribbons around her ankle. "I'll leave you now." I turned and opened the door.

"Why do you care about other men touching me?" Her voice was soft, and a little rough. Had she not been drinking water either? She had taken the shoe off, and her foot was wrapped in a white cloth. I rubbed the back of my head bashfully.

"Well, this is kinda embarrassing." Her eyebrow rose, and the unwound the white cloth, revealing a sort of cover over her toes. "I would be lying if I said I wasn't attracted to you." She took off the cover, just to reveal silicone spacers between her toes, which were then also removed. "Why are there so many layers to your shoe?" She chuckled, then stood flat, one foot exposed, the other still in the shoe.

"Base position." She then rolled off the balls of her feet and stood on the tip of her toes. "En Pointe. There are so many layers to protect the toes and foot to avoid having significant damage when resting the entire weight of your body on the tips of your toes. Shattered bones in the toe is often seen when ballerinas fail to protect their toes." She sat back down and started took off the other shoe. "You're attracted to me?" I nodded, and her face flushed bright pink. There was a slightly awkward silence, the music filling it only stifling the silence slightly. "I'm sorry for slapping you."

"Don't be. I deserved it after calling you…That."

"A whore?" I cringed. "Don't freak, I've been called it before. More times than I'd like to count, and not due to the pole dancing."

"What?" I slid down and sat next to her on the floor.

"My way of dancing ballet is much more sensual and seems quite sexual in comparison to most dancers, who prefer the innocent, prim and proper way of dancing. Don't get me wrong, I can dance like that, but it becomes boring very quickly, and throwing my own flair into the dance makes it more fun and satisfying to dance." She sighed. "However, to those prim and proper ballerinas, the ones who have had daddy's silver spoon in their bloody mouths since the day they were born, the dance style of a full ride scholarship student is crude and uncultured, and a bloody abomination to their way of life. I was thus dubbed a whore by many of those girls, only because I had penetrated their bubble of life and showed them that ballet was not only for the upper class, that it was not all prim and proper and actually had life to it."

Now I just felt like complete shit. I had called her something that essentially singled her out when all she wanted to do was to dance for a living. A sniffle came from beside me and I saw Anna try to discretely wipe her eyes. I wrapped and arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, letting her sniffle and cry on me.

"Maybe one day you can teach me how to dance like you do." Her eyes shot up to meet mine.

"I may just hold you to that."

* * *

I opened the door to the apartment, a few bags of groceries in my hand when I saw Anna lying on the couch, curled into a ball.

"Hey, I thought you had practice today." I put the groceries down on the counter and started putting stuff that needed to be refrigerated or frozen away.

"Cancelled for the week." The small hiss of pain after she said this made me raise an eyebrow.

"Everything ok?" I walked over to her and saw how tense she was in her curled position.

"Yea, the week long cancel is a normal thing. Every month, we take a week off. All the girls take a week off." A small light went off.

"Period cramps?" She nodded.

"Ding ding ding!" I stood there silently for a moment before throwing a wet cloth into the microwave for 30 seconds, then slid it into a ziploc bag. Catt often had cramps when we were dating, this helped her a lot.

"Here, lie flat on your back." She did so, hissing in pain as another cramp started. I laid the hot cloth on her lower stomach and laid my hand over it, holding it in place. She closed her eyes, made a contented noise and placed her hand on mine, enjoying the simple relief that the heat provided. I smiled at the contact, knowing it was the first time she had initiated contact with me since I found out about her job.

"How do you know how to do that?" She opened her eyes slightly to look at me.

"One of my ex-girlfriends had really bad cramps around the time of her period. This often helped." I pulled my hand away, but she caught it and made me look back at her.

"Thank you." I smiled.

"It's no problem."

* * *

**ANNA POV**

"So who the heck is Darkiplier?" I asked Mark one day when we were lounging around in the living room.

"He's apparently an alter ego of mine when I'm acting dark or creepy." I made a small noise letting him know I understood, and popped up with a wicked smile.

"Want to entertain your fans and make him real?" His eyes connected with mine and a similar wicked grin made its way across his face. We sat there smiling for 5 seconds before both scrambling to grab jackets and keys to go grab stuff to do this. I slid into my Camaro, Mark sliding into the passenger seat.

Thirty seconds later, we were speeding out onto the roads to the nearest mall.

I was a bit of an adrenaline junkie. Mark clung to the middle console and the door, trying to stabilize himself in the car. He look of fear made me giggle slightly.

"Hang on, we'll be there in a few minutes."

"It's a half hour drive!"

I laughed again. "I know!"

As we drove into the mall's parking lot, Mark fell out of the door as soon as we were parked. "LAND! SOLID LAND!"

I slid out of my door and closed it. "Don't be such a drama king."

* * *

Mark's head leaned back as I did the blonde streak in his hair. "So you do ballet. What part do you play in the…dances?" I chuckled at his attempt to figure out my complicated world of dancing.

"The parts we are given are based on what rank we have in the 'hierarchy', for lack of a better term. There are the apprentices, younger girls who are just beginning in the ballet world, the corps de ballet, better known as the background dancers, the second soloist, the first soloist, and the principal dancer."

"Aaaand, what are you?"

"Second soloist, soon to become first. The girl is moving to Washington to take up an offer to teach ballet there, so I'm taking her place within a month. They have us alternating roles to get me used to it."

"What kind of training do you guys do? I'm assuming all that dancing doesn't come naturally." He grinned cheekily at me.

"Nope, it certainly doesn't." I wrapped the streak in his hair in foil to help the dye set. "Ok, now we wait 45 minutes, then you go wash that out." I started putting the dying kit away. "Our training pretty much consists of stretching as soon as we come into the studio around 9 in the morning. We do exercises, workouts, until about 10:30." I paused to put the dye away, and mark and I walked over ot relax on the couch. "Then there's class, we go through the various stances, motions. We practice what we would do in the performance, arm movements, leg movements, positionings. Then we go onto practice dances. These help us build up our endurance and helps us last throughout an entire performance. Then we have one on one coaching. The corps get an hour or two of individual coaching, sometimes the principals will have full days of one on one time. Then there's physio, making sure we haven't injured ourselves, then lunch, and then we get an afternoon break around 4:30, 5ish. I'll typically use that time to sew a few pairs of point shoes."

"A few?" His face was shocked. "How many do you go through a performance?" I smiled.

"When I was in the corps, I would have a pair last 2 or three performances. As a principal, you can go through a pair per act. I started numbering my shoes when I was first hired by the company, I am now on pair 155."

"Do you pay for those?" I shook my head.

"The company gives us an allowance for shoes based on our positioning. I get roughly $300 a year to cover my shoe expenses." He whistled a long, low note. "Typically, that's where our day would end, but if we have a performance, we then go back to class after having hair and makeup done to help get into the right mindset for the performance. Then we get dressed, laced into our dresses, we have the 5 minute call to get ready and get into positions for going out onto the stage, dust our feet with talcum powder to avoid blisters, occasionally we'll dust the base of the shoes too to help us glide across the stage."

"The satin doesn't do that well enough?" I shook my head.

"Not all of our shoes are satin. I have a pair made of denim for a ballet version of Grease we did for charity the year I was hired. Some are made of leather, some are cotton, it all depends on what we are performing. But anyways, after the performance is the ice bucket afterwards."

"Ice bucket?" I nodded.

"We stick our bare feet in plastic bags and put them in ice water to help release the stress from the shoes and the dancing. After that, we take off out makeup and go home around...10? Depends on the day." I shrugged, and glanced at the time. "Ok Blondiplier, go rise that out the dye before you get a bald patch."


End file.
